


The President's Park Massacre

by UnpredicatbleWitch (IAmTheMelonLord)



Category: Bones (TV)
Genre: Disabled Character, Drug Related Memory Loss, Drug Use, Gen, Gore, Memory Loss, Non-Consensual Drug Use, PTSD, Traumatised Minor, Underage Drinking, Underage Drug Use, Violence, mute character, violence against a minor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2016-11-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 22:58:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IAmTheMelonLord/pseuds/UnpredicatbleWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a teenage girl is found at the scene of a multi-murder it makes the case a lot more complicated for the team. How are they supposed to solve a case while trying to drag information out of a moody teenage witness who's definitely keeping something from them. Throw in the fact that she can't speak and all her records have been sealed and this just might be their most frustrating case ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Girl in the Forest

Dr. Temperance Brennan finished her last report of the day and let out a heavy sigh. That complete, she prepared to wrap up another early evening at the lab. 

Things had been unusually quiet around the medico-legal lab of late. It almost appeared that the residents of Washington D.C. had grown tired of killing each other. However, that was highly unlikely. So instead of partaking in the cheer of her interns, Dr. Brennan resigned herself to dread. 

She had seen spells of little to no violence just like it before in her career. Each and every time their end was punctuated by crimes which made even her stomach threaten to turn. 

The sense of foreboding refused to lift as she gathered her things. But Dr. Brennan continued to head out of the building despite her terrible, irrational, feeling that something was about to happen. 

She had just settled into her car when her phone made a shrill demand for her attention. It was Booth. As soon as she heard how he said, "Bones," Dr. Brennan knew that their brief respite was over. 

"I'm on my way, where do you need me?" she asked urgently, not wasting time with unnecessary greetings. 

"West Potomac Park. We need you soon as possible," he replied tensely, and continued after a brief hesitation, "Just a warning Bones - it's bad." 

That Booth felt the need to warn _her_ of all people, meant nothing good. So Dr. Brennan hung up after a hasty goodbye and sped out of the Jeffersonian's parking lot. Although the drive to West Potomac was normally relatively short, that day it felt as though it took her hours to make the journey. 

The seemingly endless amounts of traffic didn't help matters much. 

She knew the increase in congestion was probably due to cars being diverted away from the park. But that rationalisation failed to quell her frustration. She was impatient to get to the crime scene and do her work. Booth's call had clearly indicated it was urgent. 

Perhaps she would ask for sirens to be fitted to her car. Booth might just agree this time. 

After what seemed to her to be an unnaturally long time she arrived at the park. There were some rookie officers guarding the entrance who she had to fight with to get through. In hindsight, she may have been a little harsh. She could hear one of the young men sniffling and being comforted by his partner. 

Oops. 

Once she was through all of the barriers she saw that Dr. Saroyan was already on site. Dr. Brennan greeted her and they got straight to business. 

"Three sets of remains have been found so far. There's not a lot for me to do with them, there's almost no soft tissue left on the bodies," she began the briefing, pointing out which direction each set of remains was found in, "Chances are they're minors. The team found a burnt out  fire pit, empty vodka bottles - cheap stuff - and what initial examinations suggests are the remnants of some serious drugs."

"Any theories why the remains were so spread out?"

"Something obviously interrupted the party. There's multiple sets of tracks all over. All of them human. All of them originating from the fire. Most still being tracked." 

"So they weren't pursued by an animal." 

"No. Definitely not. It rained and froze here last night so all the tracks were preserved perfectly. But we have no idea which of them are the killer's." 

"Has any concrete evidence been found yet?"

"None. We're just hoping some of the blood and hair we're sampling is the perp's." 

"You're not confident in identifying the killer's footwear impressions?" Brennan asked, surprised. If the markings were preserved so well, 

If the markings were preserved so well, comparing them to the victim's clothing would make it a simple process of elimination. 

"Normally, I would be. But I was out at the bodies we found. The only tracks or markings were made by the victims. I couldn't see any tracks leaving the scenes. Neither could the FBI's forensic team. They haven't stopped looking, though." 

"So the killer has experience covering their tracks." 

"I know. Wonderful," Camile said with enough sarcasm for it to be obvious to Brennan. 

When Dr. Brennan got to work she saw that Dr. Saroyan had not been exaggerating. Not in the slightest. There was no indication of anyone aside from the victims having been present at their times of death. No extra footwear impressions. No remaining signs of the struggles that must have occurred before each of them died. 

She turned to Booth, who was standing out of the way to take notes on her observations. With a great amount of disappointment she confirmed Camile's assessment. 

"Whoever did this covered their tracks expertly," she affirmed. 

"Expertly as in used to clearing park paths, or has a lot of practice destroying evidence?" he asked. 

Dr. Brennan shrugged, unable to discern a difference in method from the crime scene. 

"I can't tell. If you want someone to guess perhaps you should ask Sweets," she suggested. 

"I will, he's on the way," Booth said distractedly, "So if this guy can really cover his tracks that well, we have to assume he could've done the same with the rest of the evidence."

"That would be a logical conclusion, yes," Brennan confirmed. 

"So we have to think he didn't do it deliberately," Booth concluded. 

"It's not unreasonable to think so," she agreed. 

"Which means he wanted the bodies to be found." 

"I can't determine if that's true," Brennan said, "That's a question for Sweets." 

"Right, well what can you tell me about victim number one." 

"He was an adolescent, as Cam concluded. Between fifteen and eighteen years old. Approximately six feet tall. An athlete, well muscled. Wear and stress indicate he played, football, basketball, and tennis.

"That's good," Booth said as he scribbled her statement into his notebook. 

"He has an old fracture on his ulna. As well as a more recent set of fractures to his right tibia. His teeth are veneers - probably another sports injury, but it will definitely be on record." 

"Excellent, Bones. I'll call the Bureau, let them know we have a way to ID on John Doe."

As he did just that Brennan turned back to the crime scene. The case was brutal, and that was only the first of the scenes. She had many more to go. 

Brennan was quite sure the case wouldn't get much media coverage. It was too gruesome for much before the watershed, at least. 

Parts of two victims had been strewn around the small break in foliage where they stood. She had been trying to determine which bones belonged to which victim. 

Camile had been correct in deciding there wasn't much for her to do there until they returned to the lab. The soft tissue bore a closer resemblance to mush than flesh and organs. 

Many of the bones had been broken and damaged, mostly postmortem. The other skull had been almost completely shattered. There was definitely enough blood for tests. It gathered in pools on the forest floor and stained the light-barked trees in streaks - marks of fingernails were left along with one streak. 

"We're presuming one of the victims was carried here by the other, based on the drag marks," one of the forensic techs informed her. She was pretty sure her name was Alethea. 

"That makes sense," Brennan acknowledged, looking ar the drag marks the woman indicated, "The pattern does indicate one larger person leaning on another, smaller, person as they ran."  

"The woman seemed to be pleased that Brennan confirmed her hypothesis.  

Dr. Brennan turned her attention to the remains that did not belong to their John Doe.  

"This pelvis belongs to a female. Between the ages of eighteen and twenty-three. Never given birth. If this was her femur, and I feel safe presuming it to be, I'd say she was five feet ten inches tall. She was a runner. I won't be able to give a definite statement on race until the skull is reconstructed." 

"That's really good Bones. Shouldn't be too hard to find a young girl that tall. We can check with the local high schools and colleges, see if any of the track team are missing." 

"Is that all we've got for now?" Booth asked as he finished writing his notes. 

"Until I get the remains cleaned and reassembled, yes. Is the other victim in better condition?" 

Brennan stood and reached for an evidence bag to help with collecting the evidence. There was a lot of it. 

"It's pretty much on par with this, but the skull is intact," Alethea told her as she assisted Dr. Brennan in bagging evidence. 

Brennan like Alethea she really did. She was efficient and detail oriented. Very intelligent. She might try to talk her into a higher degree. She was in need of a good intern. 

When they were finished processing the first crime scene they went directly to the scene they went directly to the site of the third body. They bypassed the fire pit, for the time being. But Dr. Brennan didn't get to examine that crime scene for quite a while after that. Because as she and Agent Booth ducked under the crime scene tape another agent dashed to Booth's side. He was out of breath, so he gestured for them to follow him, and turned around to head back the way he came. 

"Agent Charles," Booth greeted him as he and Brennan caught up with him, "What's the problem?" 

"Three more bodies, Agent Booth, all as bad as the first three victims. Winston thinks he's close to another, he radioed in just a second ago. We also found this," Agent Charles shoved an evidence bag containing a dirtied dry-erase board into Booth's hands, "near the party site."

Curiosity as to why he thought it so important, Dr. Brennan read the board over Booth's shoulder. There were only a few short sentences written in a neat hand with a bright teal marker. There was a little drawing of a bluejay in the top left corner. 

It read:

" _Come on Anna tell me where we're going_ "

" _Anna this is a bad idea we need to go_ "

" _TAKE ME HOME NOW!_ " 

There had been more at one point, but the lower half was mostly rubbed out, indecipherable, and covered in mud.

"It seems to confirm the 'teens-attacked-at-bonfire' theory," Agent Charles commented, and Brennan couldn't argue with that, "And it looks like that one knew why they shouldn't've been partying last night."

"Yeah, it does. But who brings a dry-erase board to an illegal drug-fuelled bonfire in the middle of a forest?" Booth wondered aloud, not expecting anyone to answer. No one did, they just moved further and further into the forest. 

Dr. Brennan didn't get to that crime scene either. They had made it about half way there, based on the maps Dr. Brennan saw later. That was when they heard another agent bellow from deeper in the forest. 

"We've got a live one! Barely!"

Dr. Brennan and the two agents immediately took off in the direction of the voice. Agent Booth was on the radio right away, ordering an ambulance. 

They weren't the only ones responding to the call. Judging by the thundering of footfalls she could hear, every single person within hearing range was running to be of assistance. 

Although, when Dr. Brennan arrived at the latest part of the extensive crime scene, they didn't appear to be assisting at all. In fact, Dr. Brennan would have said they were doing the opposite of helping. 

When Dr. Brennan broke through the underbrush the scene that met her eyes was not what she expected. A girl who could not have possibly been more than sixteen was backed against a tree trunk. Her posture was reminiscent of a caged, feral animal. Poised to bolt at the first sign of an opportunity for freedom. Though Dr. Brennan was doubtful she would be able to move far in her condition. Her skin was actually blue and she showed all the signs of hypothermia. 

But then she saw the three agents who were lying on the ground. They appeared to be unconscious. The sick teenager appeared to be the only potential culprit. 

The girl who was positively terrified. Her entire from was almost vibrating. Not just from the cold, but from agitation. Despite the exhaustion clear in the bags under her eyes, she was desperate to move. She held the frenzied look of someone fighting for their life. From the state of her appearance and where she was found, it was more than likely she had been doing just that the previous night. 

Her short, violently violet hair was dirty and tangled. With twigs and leaves lodged in it at various angles. Her clothes - 'punk' in style - were practical and hard wearing. But even they were in shreds, barely hanging onto her small frame, and absolutely filthy. She couldn't be sure, but Brennan thought she could see some serious injuries underneath them. 

She was, without doubt, a victim of whatever happened the previous night. The only living one so far. Although she wouldn't be for long if she didn't receive medical attention very, very soon. 

"We're not going to hurt you," Booth tried to assure her as he corralled his colleagues into giving the girl some space. He showed her his badge, but that only seemed to make her more hostile. 

"We just want to know your name," he said to her in a soothing manner. 

The girl simply shook her head and moved farther back. As though she was trying to will the tree to swallow her whole. 

"We just want to help you," he told her, "Just tell us your name, and let us help you." 

Again he received no answer. Just a wary, furious glare. The girl continued her silence as Agent Charles took a step toward her. Just drew her lips into a snarl. 

The FBI agents appeared not to be taking her seriously. But they were mistaken. Beneath the dirt, panic and night sleeping on frozen ground, the girl was strong and capable. That she had been able to knock out three agents who found her was not a coincidence. 

"If you don't cooperate we'll have to arrest you," Booth warned her. 

Still no response, but she did take her eyes off of Charles long enough to send Booth a defiant glare and give him the finger.

Insulting such a widely respected Special Agent in Charge was not the smartest thing for her to do. All of Booth's colleagues reached for their handcuffs. Two of them advanced on her. They were confident they would be able to overpower the petite girl. 

They were wrong. 

Very wrong. 

When they tried to manhandle her, the girl's reaction was similar to that big green comic book character Booth liked so much. Dr. Brennan hadn't been expecting that much of a reaction. 

She elbowed the first to reach her hard in the stomach. Then managed to flip him over and throw him down on a large root. The second was taken care of just as quickly. She threw one punch at his face and he fell to the ground and stayed there. 

That all happened extremely quickly. By the time anyone had recovered, the girl had pressed herself back against the tree trunk. Booth was unsurprisingly the first to adjust. 

"Assaulting federal agents isn't going to help your case kid," he snapped, "Now this's what's gonna happen. I'm gonna take you back to the bureau, and you're gonna tell us who you are and what you were doing here. Alright?"

"All the girl did was take deep laboured breaths and try to remain upright. She was trying very hard not to stagger. That behaviour could be attributed to the hypothermia. But it seemed off to Brennan. She took a more in-depth look at the girl's eyes. Her pupils were dilated in a way that suggested she was, for lack of a better term, high. And not at all used to the sensation. 

"Booth, stop," Brennan called as Booth approached the girl, "She can't tell you anything, she brought the board." 

"Why the hell not?"

"She can't speak, Booth, she's mute," Brennan explained placing herself between Booth and the girl, and spoke to her, "You can't speak, isn't that right?"

The girl focused on her with increasing difficulty. She nodded slowly, unsurely. 

"This board was yours," Brennan held up the board in its evidence bag. 

The girl nodded at her again. 

"Oh, that complicates things," Booth said, and Brennan turned to meet frustrated gaze. 

"No, just get your agents to go back to doing their jobs. Let the paramedics handle her."

"We can't just leave her. Look at her, she's an obvious flight risk."

"I'll stay with her." 

"Want do you think you could do to stop her? _You're not a cop_."

"Well, I'm the only one she hasn't snarled at or tried to punch," she argued then added much more quietly, "It's very likely based on how wary she is of you and your male colleagues, that she was attacked by a male assailant." 

"Alright, I get what you mean. It's not a bad idea. I'll radio in, ask for female paramedics."

"Please do."

With that settled Booth chased off his agents. Hopefully they would go back to doing their actual jobs. Before all of them left Brennan comandeered one of their jackets. 

When they were all out of sight she laid the waterproof coat out on the ground near the girl. Away from any visible evidence. 

"We should sit while we waitfor the paramedics. It's slightly better than tree roots." 

The girl did nothing. But Brennan could see standing was becoming quite difficult for her. 

"Please," she implored, "You're hut and it would make me feel better if you sat with me." 

That approach worked. The girl moved slowly toward her, balance unsteady, and sat down. Despite her injuires, the girl curled in on herself. Drew her knees up to her chest. Then she began rubbing her chest in controlled circles. 

So not only was she experienced as a brawler. She knew survival techniques. That was interesting, but Brennan didn't comment on it. The girl was skittish enough without her prying. Because Dr. Brennan did have _some_ tact. 

So they sat in silence as they waited for the paramedics to arrive. Brennan hoped it wouldn't take long, for the girl's sake. 


	2. Spooked and Silent

When the paramedics arrived it was a huge relief. Dr. Brennan assisted them in preparing to move her. They had to be careful because the girl was covered in evidence.

Technically speaking, she _was_ evidence.

They explained to Dr. Brennan that their orders were to take her to the Jeffersonian, not a hospital. Apparently, the Deputy Chief was more concerned with preserving the evidence than the girl's health.

"Don't worry, Doc," one of the EMTs said as she set up an IV on the girl's arm, "We'll be with her the whole time."

"We won't leave her side," her partner confirmed as she tucked a second shock blanket around the girl's shoulders.

"We'll take good care of her," the first assured Brennan as they picked up the stretcher they'd laid the girl on and left.

"Thank you ..." Dr. Brennan then realised she didn't know their names.

"I'm Johnson," the first woman told her, "That pasty bitch's Sully."

"Oh, fuck you," Sully replied without any heat in her tone.

Brennan walked them back through the park. She left them at the very edge of the barriers. But she stayed long enough to watch as the girl was loaded into the ambulance and the vehicle pulled out to battle its way through the reporters and bottle-neckers.

Then Brennan got to work.

It took her, Camile, Hodgins and the entire FBI forensic team hours to collect all the evidence and clear the scene. It was the early hours of the morning before they were preparing to leave.

They ended up with nine bodies in total. Ten victims including the one they found alive. And three and a half vans filled to the brim with evidence. Not including the human remains. Those were transported separately.

The amount of evidence to keep track of would only increase when they got around to properly examining the victims.

This case was going to be filled with all-nighters sifting through evidence.

She drove back to the lab with Booth. She felt a little wary leaving her car in Mr. Fisher's hands, but she really didn't feel like driving right then, so she had no choice. She gave Angela a call as when succeeded in getting through the media circus without running anyone over. Though she knew Booth wouldn't have minded flattening one or two of the reporters.

"Hi, Ange, how's everything going there? Tell me none of the evidence was mishandled or disturbed."

"No. But you failed to warn me that the evidence included a dying teenager," Angela said in a way that clearly showed she was more than a little angry.

"The Deputy Chief wanted us to collect evidence before she was taken to the hospital. I didn't have a say in that."

"That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. The paramedics aren't either, she needs more help than they can give. All I can do is make her tea."

"Have the interns started collecting evidence from her yet? I want her in and out quickly as possible."

"They were waiting for you to get here," Angela told her, "They're a little afraid of her, and I think the feeling's mutual."

"Alright," Brennan said, not happy but understanding the need for delicacy in that situation, "I'll be there in about ten minutes, just do your best to keep her comfortable."

"Don't worry, I will. When you get here, she's in the bone room, and I'm playing heavy metal for her."

"Why?"

"She likes it. I'm keeping her from having another panic attack."

"Another?" Brennan asked loudly.

"Yeah. Daisy was a bit much for her," Angela said, "You know how Daisy can be."

"Yes, I know. I'll have to talk to her."

It was a talk Brennan had been putting off for weeks. But that was the final straw. It was something Daisy needed to hear. Her approach was often inappropriate for the work. But if she was having such an effect on a living girl they were working with, it had gone beyond inappropriate.

Daisy was a talented anthropologist and incredibly intelligent. It would be a shame to allow something like interpersonal relations hold her back. It was something Brennan had some experience dealing with. So she believed she would be able to help her intern, when they had the time. Whether that would be any time soon, however, Brennan was more doubtful.

"I'm on my way, when I get there I'll collect the evidence from the girl. In the mean time, Ange, could you photograph and catalogue her injuries. And get her something to write with so she can communicate with us?" Brennan decided with a sigh.

"I left a tablet with her in the bone room, but she hasn't touched it," Angela told her, something worrisome in her tone that Brennan couldn't quite identify, "I don't think she wants to cooperate."

"That's absurd," Brennan said, shocked at the very idea, "Someone brutalised her and left her for dead last night. Why wouldn't she want to help us catch them?"

That caught Booth's attention enough to draw his gaze away from the road. Brennan gestured, a little frantically, for him to keep his mind on driving. He complied, albeit reluctantly.

"What do you mean, the girl won't cooperate?" he asked, enraged, even as he kept his eyes forward. In his frustration he was quick to blare the horn at every driver who inconvenienced their progress.

Brennan was a little surprised he'd even heard Angela through the phone. She didn't keep the volume up that loud. It was disturbing, if she was honest. So, Brennan made a mental note to stand further away from Booth whenever she wanted privacy in future.

"I dunno," Angela replied, "I just know the uniforms posted on her protection detail spooked her so much that I had to make them stand around outside the bone room. It doesn't look like she's got the warm fuzzies for cops."

"Why?" Brennan wondered, not expecting an answer. At least not right then. She would find out eventually.

After a brief silence she spoke again.

"Could you try to find out why, Ange?" she asked, "At least try to get her talking. Or writing. About anything. Anything we get out of her could be useful."

"Like her name," Booth suggested with a frown and a displeased slant to his mouth.

"Yes," she agreed, "Her name would be much appreciated."

"I can try. But don't get your hopes up. That little girl's one cool customer."

"I'm sure you can do it Ange," Brennan said with a laugh.

"You're right, I'm charming as fuck," Angela said back, amused, and assured her, "I'll get her to warm up. Figuratively and literally."

Angela said that as a joke, but Brennan had complete faith in her abilities. She had an incomprehensible way of making people open up to her. It hadn't failed her yet. Brennan hoped it wouldn't disappoint them this time either.

"Okay, Ange. I'll see you at the lab."

"Don't be too long. I don't think that girl has long to wait," she said more seriously.

With that they ended the call.

Brennan rested her head back against the car seat. She let out a long breath and resisted, with some difficulty, to groan and start massaging her temples. This case was becoming more and more difficult every time someone brought it up in conversation. Usually, Brennan liked the intellectual challenge of a complicated case. It made coming to a solution more rewarding. But she doubted solving this case would bring anyone any satisfaction whatsoever.

"Maybe we should use the sirens, Booth," she suggested at length, "Angela said the girl's condition is only getting worse. We might not have much time to question her."

To her surprise, Booth immediately reached up and flicked the switch, turning the sirens on and barging through the surrounding traffic. With the speed and precision of a rally driver. They moved so quickly that Brennan was compelled to grab onto the hand holds to steady herself. She was focused on not getting thrown around like a paper bag in a wind storm. Booth was focused on not causing a massive collision. So, all conversation was put to an end.

Brennan wasn't sure she could speak without motion sickness, anyway.


End file.
